


Fiercely and Forever

by NicolexoN



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Post-Divorce, Romance, Scheming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29281209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolexoN/pseuds/NicolexoN
Summary: A divorced couple find their way back to each other, despite the bumps along the way, with a little help from their daughter.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 69
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

Jasmine Charice Wilson-Barnes had a _plan._ The most perfect-est perfect plan ever.

You see, as much as her friends tell her she should be _grateful_ and _overjoyed_ at the fact that she gets two Christmases, two birthday celebrations and two sources of allowance from her divorced fathers, she _hates_ it. The thirteen-year-old would give up the extra gifts and ever-growing bank account in a heartbeat if it meant that her parents would get back together. 

Though she had only been five at the time of the split, she remembers vividly the heartbroken expression on her papa’s face when the movers left with the last of her and her daddy’s things. She remembers how tight her papa held her, promising that nothing would change and that she would always be his favorite girl. Even though the man’s eyes had been glossy and his voice tight, he had made sure to ask that she take care of her daddy for him.

She also remembers that her daddy cried himself to sleep every night for the first month they lived in the new house - just for the two of them now. 

That had been eight years ago, and as far as she knew, her parents hadn’t communicated outside of emails pertaining to the upbringing of their child since. Even though she had been so young she can still remember how happy the small family had been before it all went to hell. Her and her daddy making papa’s favorite foods when he was returning home from an assignment, the Saturday trips to the famer’s market where papa would sneak them both sweets behind daddy’s back, movie night where her and papa would make a fort from the couch cushions while daddy would order pizza and everything was _perfect_. 

Then papa got a promotion and had to spend more and more time away from home, daddy smiled less and less, the fighting and yelling started, and the happy bubble that surrounded the small family popped.

There was one night in particular that will always stay with the young girl; the very evening she knew their lives were going to change. She’d woken up in the middle of the night, muffled voices from the living room getting louder and louder, swear words she _knew_ she couldn’t repeat being hurled between her parents. Jasmine had shuffled from her room and down the stairs, fully intent on begging her parents to stop fighting and to remember that they loved each other more than anything. She had gotten as far as the bottom step, concealed by the dividing wall, when a harsh smack rang through the room, halting her in place. Her daddy was crying saying he wanted a divorce and before her papa could respond, the sound of the back door slamming resonated in the quiet house.

The young girl had stood frozen in the shadows as her papa marched right past her with a flaming red cheek and out of the front door, slamming it behind him as well.

She waited a few moments before her rapidly beating heart would allow her feet to move and then stepped into the living room, eyes zeroing in on her daddy’s wedding ring tossed onto the coffee table.

The next morning her daddy went to spend a few days with granny, papaw and auntie Sarah. When she asked her papa when daddy would be back and if everything was OK, the man had instructed her to finish her breakfast before it got cold and took his glass of scotch to the backyard without answering her.

Her and daddy moved out the next week.

She never could bring herself to ask either parent exactly _why_ their marriage had fallen apart, but her aunts were adamant that their brother was blameless in the split. Jasmine never enjoyed the anger that coursed through her little body when her aunts started trash-talking one of her parents and resolved to spend her visits with her grandparents instead.

And so life settled.

Jasmine spent the school year with her daddy in New Jersey, where the man had his own successful private practice as a psychologist and majority of the summer with her papa in the city, when the man was able to get leave from the military. Neither man explicitly asked about their ex-spouse and Jasmine didn’t offer any details; this was her new normal. Privately, the girl stubbornly held hope that the men would reconcile so that they might be a _family_ again, seeing as to how neither man ever introduced her to a boyfriend or girlfriend. She’d been content to let them work things out at their own pace, confident that they’d find their way back to each other.

Or at least she _had_ been content.

Then _Riley_ butted in and had the nerve to introduce himself as daddy’s _boyfriend_.

This just wouldn’t do.

And so, Jasmine began plotting. Operation Get Daddy and Papa to Realize They’re Perfect for Each Other and Get Back Together is a go.

The title is a work in progress, okay?

***

Jasmine glowered at the scene in front of her, eyes burning into the hand placed confidently in her daddy’s back pocket. Riley had yet again invaded their house, ruining a peaceful Saturday morning that was meant to be just _her_ and _daddy._ She’d only known about the man for a month and hadn’t thought anything would come out of the coffee date daddy had _assured_ her was probably nothing. 

But lo and behold, that was fifty _coffee dates_ ago and now the man kept popping up like a freaking wack-a-mole. And no matter how hard Jasmine _bashed him over the head with a mallet_ , he wouldn’t fuck off.

Figuratively, of course. Daddy would not be happy if she actually attempted to murder the douchebag. She started small, swapping his sugar with salt when bringing them all tea, adding thrice the amount of chili peppers to _his_ helping of chili, _accidentally_ spilling her nail polish on his brand new leather jacket, _forgetting_ to tell him that the ferry was leaving early, and filling his cologne with sugar water in the dead of summer so the wasps knew _exactly_ where to attack.

The man was _still here_ and call her crazy, but Jasmine thinks the man had already become aware of her sabotage and is staying just to _spite_ her. 

But worry not, she hasn’t even _started_ to really torment him. 

“Jazzy, are you listening?” 

The girls eyes snapped up towards her father’s curious expression, both he and _Riley_ leaning against the counter to face her, clearly having been talking to her as she internally plotted the most gruesome way to murder her daddy’s boyfriend.

She plastered on a sheepish smile as she released her iron grip on the glass of orange juice she had been drinking, discreetly flexing the stiff digits. “Sorry, daddy, what were you saying?”

The man smiled softly at his daughter, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Riley got us tickets to see _The Lion King_ on Broadway this weekend.”

Of all the _underhanded, sneaky_ tricks! Daddy must have told the intruder that Lion King was her absolute favorite Disney movie. Well, jokes on him! Jasmine Charice Wilson-Barnes is not easily bought.

She forced a smile that ended up looking like a grimace and reluctantly moved her gaze to Riley. “Oh, he _shouldn’t have_ . How _nice of him.”_

Uh-oh. Daddy’s eyes are doing that thing where they lower into slits as a warning that the next words out of her mouth better be a completely different tone. But, you know what? _No._

“I, _unfortunately_ , already have plans, feel free to give my ticket to a homeless man or something.” Jasmine said in a sickeningly sweet voice, already rising from the bar stool.

“ _Jasmine_ ,” her daddy said sharply, arms crossing over his chest as he glared at his daughter. “Your attitude is _atrocious-”_

Riley cut in with a gentle hand to her daddy’s arm, pulling him into his side and kissing his temple. “Sam, it’s alright, baby. It’s not like I can’t return one of the tickets, we can make it a date night.”

Sam’s anger seemed to slowly evaporate the longer Riley held him, though his sharp gaze didn’t leave his daughter’s face. He sighed and let his arms drop from their folded position, turning slightly to kiss Riley on the lips. A whispered _thank you_ left her father’s lips and Riley smiled softly, moving a hand up to cup Sam’s cheek.

“Anything for you, baby.”

_Gag_.

“I’m so out of here,” Jasmine hissed, throwing a disgusted look towards the embracing couple as she stomped out of the kitchen to get dressed for her lunch date.

***

Lieutenant Colonel James Barnes was a serious man with a serious job that he took… _seriously_. 

One look at the man and it would be easy to guess that he’d been fully marinated in the military life for quite some time. Even out of uniform, the man exudes authority and commands respect. 

Currently, the man sat at attention, phone in one hand, scrolling through his email, Bluetooth device plugged into his ear as he conversed with his higher ups regarding the details of a program they were putting together for newer recruits. He hadn’t noticed that Jasmine entered the cozy café, nor did he notice the hungry gazes multiple patrons were sending his way. 

The man’s shoulder length hair was pulled into a low, neat ponytail, he wore a blue pinstripe dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the hem tucked into fitted navy slacks and completed the look with brown loafers and a matching belt. Jasmine rolled her eyes fondly as she zeroed in on her father’s biceps, wishing the shirt was _at least_ a size larger to get rid of the vultures.

“Papa,” she called out excitedly as she drew closer to the table. 

The man looked up sharply and twin sets of blue eyes locked. James smiled widely at his baby girl, biding the person on the other line goodbye before standing to pull his daughter into his arms for their first hug in _months._

“I missed you, Jaybird,” the man said softly, dropping a kiss to the top of Jasmine’s head as he held her close.

Jasmine sighed happily, hugging her father back just as fiercely. “Missed you too.”

When the pair parted and took their seats, Jasmine immediately began teasing her father. She leaned across the table and poked his bicep with a smirk. “They run out of your size or something?” 

James raised an eyebrow, confusion clear on his handsome face, and Jasmine snorted. For such an objectively attractive man, her papa was so clueless sometimes. She allowed herself to dream that the reason he was still single was because he was waiting on his one true love - _her daddy_. 

Jasmine opened her mouth to crudely point out the interested glances her father was receiving from the thirsty customers littered around the café, but their waitress decided to strut up to their table and be the perfect example instead.

“You ready to order, handsome?” she purred, fluttering obviously fake eyelashes as she gazed at James. Jasmine took the opportunity to give the woman a once over, taking in the tight pink polo shirt with the cafe’s insignia on the breast pocket to the right and a name tag reading _Stacey_ on the left, the figure-flattering skinny jeans and the plain white Vans. The young girl had no doubt that this woman had already tried to flirt with her father prior to her arrival and had more than likely been dismissed while the man had been on his phone call.

James gifted the woman a polite smile as he picked up his menu before giving his attention to his daughter. “Jaybird, you know what you want to drink?”

There would never be a doubt who her daddy was, with a mouth as slick as hers. Jasmine flicked her long, curly hair over her shoulder and looked at their waitress with an openly amused expression. The woman had yet to glance her way, let alone acknowledge her. “Well, I haven’t even been offered a menu. _Stacey_ here is apparently _so_ distracted by your good looks, pops.”

She almost giggled out loud when the tips of her papa’s ears turned a subtle red, but kept her attention on Miss. _Stacey_. The woman finally turned her head towards Jasmine, the flirty smile sliding off morphing into an annoyed expression. “Let me go get you a menu,” she said with forced politeness.

“You do that,” Jasmine replied with a chilly smile, and held her gaze until the waitress huffed and spun on her heels, blonde tresses trailing behind her as she stalked away from their table.

_Honestly,_ the utter lack of professionalism is astounding and if she thinks she’s still getting a _tip_ she’s out of her fucking -

Jasmine’s eyes cut from glaring at the woman’s retreating back to look at her father, who’d begun chuckling to himself as he scanned the menu. “Retract the claws, princess.”

The girl continued scowling for a few moments more and then forced herself to take in a breath, chasing away the irritation _Stacey_ caused and focused back on her papa - setting her plan into action.

“Papa, you have to come see my room,” she said, changing the topic as she reached across and slid the man’s menu over to her side since _Stacey_ was clearly taking her ~~sweet~~ sour time. “I just re-decorated and it’s _legit_.”

The man smiled slightly at the quick change in his daughter’s mood and rested his forearms onto the table. “I saw the pictures, baby. It looks great.”

Jasmine pouted and made sure to widen her eyes as she gazed at her papa. “But it’s not the same, you have to see it in person.”

James’ smile dimmed slightly, clearly torn between giving into his daughter or telling her _no_ just to avoid his ex-husband. 

The truth was, he hadn’t actually faced Sam since the man walked out on their marriage and took James’ kid with him. The bitterness took time to fade, but the hurt and longing hadn’t budged in eight years’ time. If there was one thing he’d do differently in his life, given the chance, it would be to put his family before his job. He had allowed his ambition to make something of himself overshadow taking care of his family, outside of just financially. It had taken three weeks of drinking himself into a stupor and passing out on the couch of his then-barren condo, to realize that all the money and respect in the word meant next to _nothing_ if he didn’t get to come home to his husband and daughter.

“Honey, I don’t think your daddy-” 

“He won’t be there, promise,” she assured the man, wanting to stop the objection before it even passed his lips. “It’ll just be you and me, papa.”

And, alright, maybe lying to her papa is not the way to go about getting her parents back together, but - well there is no but. The two of them have had _eight years_ to find their way back to each other, now Jasmine was going to _force_ them back together.

James sighed heavily, the little voice in his head screaming that _this is not a good idea at all_. “Alright, princess, I’ll stop by next Saturday, okay?”

Jasmine managed to just barely conceal a triumphant laugh, that probably would have sounded more like a villainous cackle. Stacey finally decided to return and do her job, so Jasmine was gearing up for some more catty tennis. Nothing this trollop could say would change the fact that Operation Get Daddy and Papa to Realize They’re Being Stupid was _starting._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, y'all showed lots of love on the first chapter so I'm posting this a little earlier than planned. Thank you for your support!

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Sam asked his daughter for the third time since coming into her room the following Saturday.

Sam came downstairs dressed in a forest green form-fitting suit paired with a light purple checkered dress shirt, top two buttons undone, and dark brown dress shoes. The happy and healthy daughter he had before he left to get dressed had somehow become a sweaty, fevered mess in the short amount of time he’d been gone. 

The young girl had been laid out on the couch, snacks and Gossip Girl forgotten as she moaned in pain and cried out for her daddy. Sam kicked off his shoes and half carried his daughter to bed, fretting over the burning up temperature he felt radiating from her forehead. After he got the young girl situated with water and saltines, he sent a quick text of apology to Riley for having to cancel so last minute and then stripped the suit jacket off to fully take care of his babygirl.

“I’m sure, daddy,” Jasmine said weakly, making grabby hands at the man until he fully climbed into bed with his baby and she curled around him, sighing happily.

“If your fever doesn’t break by morning, I’m hauling your butt to the ER, got it?” he said, raking a soft hand through the girl’s hair. 

Jasmine nodded against Sam’s stomach, knowing the fever she had would be wearing off in about two minutes. Those hot compresses don’t last nearly as long as she’d like and if her papa didn’t hurry up she’d have to resort to sticking her finger down her throat to keep up this charade. She’d rather not go there, but Jasmine is nothing if not committed to her role. 

The pair cuddled together, Sam switching between rubbing his daughter’s back and carting a comforting hand through her hair as they spoke softly. Sam told her all about his newest client who was turning out to be the most pretentious SOB he’d ever met and Jasmine shared that she might have a crush on Domonic Saltzman from her theater class. She giggled softly when Sam playfully demanded that the boy come fight him before being allowed to date his baby. 

It hadn’t taken long for the comforting presence of her daddy to begin to lull her to the brink of semi-consciousness, eyes drooping and grip loosening around the man. She was almost out like a light when their doorbell rang, jerking her back into a state of awakeness and she sat up quickly. “Daddy, someone-”

Sam snorted, detangling himself from his daughter. “I may be getting old, but I’m not deaf yet, you brat.”

Sam walked at a leisurely pace from his daughter’s room to the front door on the first floor, Jasmine practically vibrating with excitement at the top of the stairs as she watched him. Oh, she was just going to burst. This would be the first time her parents saw each other in forever and she was directly responsible for rekindling their epic love. She let out a little squeal of anticipation.

Sam paused, a few steps from the front door and turned back to the stairs, taking in his daughter’s wide smile and fidgety demeanor. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’re you up to, Jazz?”

The girl’s eyes widened comically as she shook her head and held up her hands in innocence. “Nothing, daddy!”

The man held her gaze for a moment more before chalking it up to him just having birthed a weirdo and turned back to the door, reaching out and opening it for their visitor.

His heart practically stopped and his jaw dropped in shock when he laid eyes on his ex-husband standing at his door looking just as discombobulated as Sam felt at this very second. 

God, and _just_ as sexy as Sam remembered.

“Bucky,” he whispered unbelievingly, unable to comprehend why the man was here of all places, right now.

James’ mouth opened and closed a few times, looking remarkably like a fish as he struggled for something to say. In the back of his mind he just knew that little voice had been right about this whole visit being a terrible idea, and yet he had firmly ignored it and drove over here anyway. 

The years had been so _good_ to Sam, James allowed himself to admit. The man looked older, of course, the boyish face that James fell in love with had aged with grace, though not a single wrinkle marred that beautiful mahogany skin. The open buttons of his shirt allowed the man’s prominent collarbone to peek through, causing memories of passionate love bites decorating the clavicle to jump to the forefront of James’ mind. He pulled out of his musings, mentally berating himself for just standing there staring.

“Jaybird wanted me to see her room,” he said lamely, unsure of what else to say.

James watched as intense hazel eyes reflected the thoughts tumbling around Sam’s head as they continued looking at each other; they went from shocked to confused, then to calculating, onto realization and then settled on anger.

“Jasmine Charice, get your ass down here right now!”

Sam pushed the front door open wider and gestured for James to come in, clearly very reluctantly, and shut it firmly behind him just as Jasmine timidly touched down on the ground floor, looking extremely guilty and avoiding her daddy’s unforgiving glare.

“You did this on _purpose_ ,” he hissed at the girl, arms crossed and looking scarily just like granny Ruth. “You aren’t even sick, are you?”

Jasmine winced and then decided to try one last attempt at getting out of this scolding. She clutched her left side and scrunched her face up, as if in pain. “I am sick, daddy. It might be my appendix!”

The teen hunched over and let out pitiful moans of despair, trying to play the sympathy card and hoping her acting skills were at least somewhat believable.

“Your appendix is on the _right_ ,” Sam barked. “ _Knock it off._ ”

Well, shit, there goes her dream of being on Broadway.

Jasmine threw a panicked look over to her silent father, who didn’t look nearly as upset as daddy did. She widened her eyes and tilted her head towards Sam, signaling for the man to help. James just raised an eyebrow at his daughter and stayed silent as he leaned against the wall near their front door.

“Do not look to your father for help; you pretended to be sick for _what_?” Sam demanded.

The girl bit her lip as she frantically tried to come up with an excuse that didn’t include revealing her poorly thought-through plan. Jasmine hadn’t expected her daddy to be mad. She daydreamed about the men locking eyes and immediately falling back in love. Call her optimistic, but she planned on helping her papa move his things in by next weekend.

“I must have misunderstood the dates,” James eventually spoke up in defense of his daughter, never having been able to stand his baby getting scolded and was more than willing to take on Sam’s wrath in her place. 

Sam huffed in irritation and finally released Jasmine from his fierce gaze in favor of turning to look at his ex-husband. “No, you didn’t. Jasmine has just become fond of _scheming_ and _plotting_.”

“Daddy-“

“Aren’t there some dishes in the sink you could put your hands on?” Sam cut her off, still facing his ex-husband.

Jasmine opened her mouth to argue but stopped when her papa raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her, making it clear that she had reached that point with him, as well. With a scowl she stomped into the kitchen to start on the dishes, leaving the two men alone in the foyer.

Sam visibly deflated, thoroughly annoyed that he could never stay upset with his little girl, no matter how much of a mess she made of things. 

He allowed himself a full three seconds to admire his ex-husband, taking in the distinguished aura the man gave off as he leaned casually against the wall, with crossed arms. Sam appreciated the gray long sleeve sweater the man wore, biceps and chest looking very tasty, he took in the light washed jeans that he had no doubt would make his ex-husband’s ass look fantastic, and the white sneakers stylishly covering his feet.

Sam snapped himself out of the trance this gorgeous man had him in and offered a small (and slightly awkward) smile as he clasped his hands in front of him to avoid fidgeting. “I’m sorry about that.”

James shrugged, not looking upset in the slightest. He gazed at Sam openly, expression soft as he, too, took in the delicious sight the other man made. “How’ve you been?”

That’s a _loaded_ question. 

What was he supposed to say? Surely it wouldn’t be wise to tell the man he finally stopped waking up and hoping to see James laying in bed next to him. Maybe sharing that he has yet to have sex with anyone other than the man who provided half of his kid’s DNA was also not a good idea. Or should he tell James that it had taken eight years for Sam to even entertain the idea of dating someone else - why bother when he had already lost his soulmate, right?

“I’ve been alright,” he says softly, instead. “You?”

“Same...”

“...Good.”

The divorced couple lapsed into an awkward silence, one man’s eyes dropped to the ground as he struggled to find something else to say and the other leaned against the wall, hands twitching with nerves clasped tightly behind his back. 

The last time either man could remember ever being awkward with each other was at the start of their first date and considering Sam’s tongue was down Bucky’s throat before their dessert came, things ceased to be awkward after that.

“Would you, um, like some... water?” Sam asks, cringing at how audibly uncomfortable he sounded.

Bucky gave him a tight smile as he pushed off of the wall, clearly aware of his ex-husband’s discomfort with him being there. “I should probably get going, you look like you were on your way out, anyway.”

“I’m not -“

“Stay for dinner, papa,” Jasmine pleaded, suddenly standing in the foyer entry, purposely making her eyes wide and shimmery, hoping her parents would fold in the presence of her puppy dog eyes.

James’ eyes left Sam’s beautiful face and cut over to their daughter with a sigh. He didn’t think it was fair for both he and Sam to have been caught off guard by Jasmine’s scheming, but knew he didn’t want his ex-husband to have to be the bad guy in this situation. 

“Jaybird, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He said it delicately, slowly crossing the short distance to pull his girl into his arms. The teen wrapped her arms around her father, burrowing into the man’s muscled chest. 

“Please,” she whispered softly, too low for Sam to hear, when her papa dropped a kiss to the top of her head. She didn’t think this through, she’s willing to admit, but letting her papa just leave is something she can’t do. 

Their lunch dates were becoming far and few in between as it is, with her papa taking on a more involved role in their country’s military reform. With the way things were going she would not be surprised if her papa ended up canceling Jaybird and Papa’s Summer of Fun due to the man being called into work for whatever national emergency reared its head that week.

“You should stay.” Sam’s voice floated to their ears; twin sets of blue orbs snapped over to him, one in hope and the other in confusion. Truth be told, Sam’s mouth spoke before his brain had any say in the matter and even if he wanted to ( _did he want to?_ ), it was much too late to rescind the offer.

  
“Stay,” the man repeated with a reassuring smile and immediately knew he made the right choice when Jasmine squealed loudly and hugged James again briefly before coming over to wrap her arms around Sam.

“You _rock_ , daddy! I’m making spaghetti,” the girl exclaimed and then skipped into the kitchen, leaving the divorced spouses alone, once again.

Sam gazed after his baby girl with a sappy smile, always elated to be the cause of Jasmine’s glee. If he had known that something as simple as inviting her father over for dinner would make the teen this happy, he would have suggested it years ago. It would be good for the girl to be around both of her parents together, as they could represent a united front now that she was growing up and would soon be entering high school. The thought of Jasmine dating, driving and getting a job made him feel old as dirt, but also proud that he and James managed to raise such a great kid.

“You sure it’s alright I’m here?”

He’d eventually have to be able to have a normal conversation with the man, sans awkwardness and both of them avoiding eye contact, and what better time to break the ice than the present? With a deep breath Sam locks gazes with James and plasters on the neutral but friendly smile he often gave his patients. “It’s fine, James, really.”

He beckoned the man to follow him, turning sharply on his heels and making sure to swish his hips a little more than necessary. If there’s one thing about James Barnes that Sam will never doubt - it’s that the man can’t keep his eyes off of his ass. “Let’s go make sure our spawn doesn’t burn the house down.”

Sam takes a few steps out of the foyer, noting that the man hadn’t said anything in response yet. He turned slightly to look at James, catching the exact moment when the man’s eyes snapped away from his backside and up to look back at him. The shorter man has to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at the sheepish smile that takes over James face as he reaches a hand up to rub his reddening neck bashfully, then turns back around to continue on to the kitchen.

“You did that on purpose,” James mutters petulantly behind him and this time Sam does let out a throaty laugh as he rounds the corner into their kitchen.

Maybe James coming around more often won’t be so bad, Jasmine would sure like it.

And maybe… Sam would be too.

***

“Are you sure it's a good idea for him to be there? You know, so close to your bedroom?” Natasha teases over the phone one Wednesday afternoon when Sam was between patients. “A strong wind might blow and knock you both naked - and what else would you do beside make passionate love, giving me another baby to spoil.”

This is _exactly_ why he shouldn’t have mentioned that James’ one dinner quickly turned into Saturday lunch and Sunday brunch plus dinner, because Jazz and James spent five straight hours screaming into their respective headsets about killshots and being murdered by their own teammates. The woman took the visits as a sign that he and James were on their way to getting back together, which was ridiculous considering a) Sam currently has a boyfriend and b) he and James divorced because they couldn’t make them work, he doubted that they needed a second try to know that absolutely nothing has changed. 

Besides it’s not like that’s even an option for them, surely James has moved on by now to someone more compatible with him. Someone who doesn’t nag and make it so hard for him to come home from work and spend time with his - oh, god, stop. 

You are not bitter, Sam reassures himself. You have a smoking hot boyfriend - who cares what James is doing outside of the time he spends with his daughter?

Not you, he thinks vehemently and forces himself to tune back into his phone call.

“... -ean, why not just give him another ride for old time’s sake? See if that old thing is still-”

“Natasha!” Sam cuts her off with a startled laugh, entirely caught off guard by the tail end of an undoubtedly long-winded and sexually explicit monologue. “I’m not going to sleep with him.”

The woman sighs on the other end of the line, sounding _put out_ that Sam isn’t willing to hook up with his ex-husband behind his current boyfriend’s back. “You’re the one who said he gave you orgasms that had you speaking tongues-”

“I told you that in college, stop bringing it up!” Sam screeches, equally as mortified each time his best friend decides to harass him, wielding his slip of judgement following his first walk of shame after nineteen-year-old Bucky had literally put him through a religious experience in the bedroom. Naturally, he wanted to share this information with his then-roommate, Natasha.

The Russian cackles on the other line, always having enjoyed getting Sam riled up. She took great enjoyment in custom ordering a cake that had crude fondant-people imitating reverse-cowgirl and in bright pink lettering read congrats on the sex, bitch, when Sam lost his virginity their freshman year. What had been even sweeter than the icing on the cake was Sam’s face when she had it delivered to him in the middle of their theology lecture.

“Seriously, Sam,” Natasha says once she’s done laughing at his embarrassment. “You always said James was the only man you could see yourself growing old with, he’s here now and you have a second chance. Why squander it?”

Sam sighs on his end, removes his glasses and rubs a hand over his face. He’d had the same thought multiple times over the past week, startled at how easy things felt between the small family once the first night of uncertainty passed. But the last thing he wanted to do to his and James’ tentative friendship was suggest they take a chance at being together again. It wouldn’t be fair to any of the people involved, Jasmine most importantly. 

Not to mention that he has a boyfriend he’d been severely neglecting this past week. The fact that the kind man who has been persistent and respectful in his pursuit of Sam was nothing more than a belated afterthought was not lost on him.

“Tasha, it’s - I just _can’t_.”

Sam wouldn’t allow himself to complicate all of their lives, not even for his own desires.


	3. Chapter 3

Something was wrong, Riley could just feel it in his bones. He and Sam went from seeing each other nearly every day to now going a week without laying eyes on each other. It wasn’t from lack of effort on Riley’s end, three separate times his attempts to spend time together had been shot down. If it wasn’t a sickness his daughter suddenly had, it was a long work day that sent the man straight to bed or a spur of the moment visit to see his parents.

If Riley was less secure in himself, his mind would be filled with thoughts of another man touching and caressing his beautiful lover, something he, himself, had yet to do. Sam has been adamant that they hold off on the more intimate parts of their relationship until they’d been seeing each other a while longer. Sure, Riley had agreed at the time, but also found it ridiculous that adults were being coy about intentions in the bedroom. Sam was gorgeous and after all of the dates he paid for and putting up with his shit kid, Riley was  _ more  _ than frustrated.

“What’re  _ you _ doing here?” Jasmine hisses, happy expression morphing into irritation the moment she opens the front door and sees Riley standing on the other side.

“I’m here to see your father, obviously. Are you going to let me in?” He asks, unimpressed with her bratty attitude, as always.

“Oh, since I get a choice -  _ fuck _ no.” The girl smirks at him, still refusing to open the door any wider. Riley grits his teeth, counting down the days until he gets close enough to Sam to suggest boarding school, or military school, hell, even sending the kid to live with her other parent permanently is an option as far as Riley cares. He just wants her  _ gone _ . She was undoubtedly the obstacle that stood between him and Sam’s bedroom.

Riley often wondered what kind of man Sam’s ex-husband was, and what kind of  _ idiot _ he must be to have let Sam go so easily. The blond had no doubt that all of the annoying parts of their kid came straight from him. If Riley had it his way, the ex-husband and their kid could board a plane heading straight for the Atlantic Ocean.

“Open the  _ fuc-“ _

“Jaybird, who’s at the door?” Riley hears an unfamiliar voice call from behind the girl and schools his features into a neutral expression, knowing the teen in front of him was waiting for a reaction judging by the wide grin on her face.

“One of daddy’s patients I think,  _ papa, _ ” she says innocently, hip-checking the door wider to reveal Sam’s ex-husband. 

Riley stomps down the feeling of intimidation that wells up in his chest and instead racks his brain trying to remember the new arrival’s name, positive Sam mentioned it at one point. The man was clearly taller than both he and Sam, legs going on for miles in his casual dark wash jeans, with broad shoulders and muscled arms that even Riley admitted looked  _ unfairly good _ in his blue t-shirt. Before Riley could think of something to say that would make it clear that Sam was  _ his _ now, Jasmine spoke again. “You’re the one depressed about his erectile dysfunction, right?”

“Jay!” The man snorts in surprise, eyes lighting up with mirth, but quickly gathering himself to be The Adult. He pats the top of the girl’s head softly, lip twitching with the effort it was taking not to smile. “That was extremely rude, apologize and then go help your daddy in the kitchen.”

The evil spawn scowls at Riley for a second longer before huffing out a flat apology towards her father’s boyfriend. Jasmine wraps an arm around her papa, squeezing him once, looking like an innocent child instead of the asshole Riley knew her to be. The man returned the hug happily, dropping a kiss to the top of her head; the teen stepped away from his arms and turned to head towards the kitchen. 

“Please come in, you’re a patient of Sam’s?” The man asks, waving him inside. Riley gives him a tight lipped smile, choosing to ignore the middle finger Jasmine shoots at him behind her father’s back before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Boyfriend, actually,” he corrects, inwardly annoyed that the man’s face didn’t look the slightest bit bothered at the revelation.

“Right, well, Sam’s in the kitchen, I’ll go grab him. I assume you know the way to the living room?”

_ Just like I assume you know the way to Sam’s bedroom?  _ Riley wants to snarl, not liking that this man felt so  _ at home _ , that he’s acting like this was his house as well. 

Instead of causing a scene, Riley decided not to respond at all, stalking off towards the living room to wait on his boyfriend’s  _ ex-husband  _ to bring said boyfriend to him, the  _ current boyfriend _ . Until a few minutes ago, Riley was under the impression that Sam and the ex didn’t even converse outside of emails and now he’s walking in on them playing a twisted game of house, while he watches from the sideline. 

After all of the effort and time and  _ money _ he’s put into Sam -

“Hey, Riley, what’re you doing here?” Sam’s flustered voice cuts into the start of his inner monologue as the man steps into the living room, wiping his hands on dish rag, the ex-husband a few steps behind him looking amused.

“I just wanted to check on you, baby.” Riley replied with a smile plastered on his face to hide his irritation. He moves towards Sam, circling his arms around the trim waist, and then moves in to peck his boyfriend on the lips. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” Sam says quickly, nervously, turning his head very slightly to the left so Riley’s lips hit the corner of his mouth instead. 

“Daddy, the steaks are ready to be seasoned!” Jasmine calls from the kitchen and Sam looks  _ relieved  _ to have an excuse to detangle himself from Riley’s arms. 

“I’ll be right back, one second,” he promises, gently removing the arms around his waist and turning to exit the living room. Riley scowls at his retreating back, pissed beyond belief that Sam just avoided his kiss in front of his ex-husband on top of probably spending secret nights with the very  _ same  _ ex-husband.

“You want something to drink, bud?” The man asks him after a few moments of silence. Riley thinks about ignoring him entirely, but decides against it. 

“If I want something to drink, I know where to get it,” he says without turning around.

“Whatever you say, pal.” Comes the amused reply and Riley finally spins around to face the room’s other occupant.

“I’m not your pal, or your bud, it’s  _ Riley _ ,” he snaps, and stomps past the man in favor of dropping heavily into the loveseat adjacent. “I don’t even know what you think you’re  _ doing _ here after all this time.”

Riley’s mind finally retrieves the bastard’s name -  _ James.  _

“Sam and I share a daughter, in case you didn’t notice.” The man’s sarcastic replies were really starting to grate on Riley’s nerves, one or two more of his  _ cute little quips _ and he might find his brakes no longer work when he needs them most.

“Cut the shit,” Riley growls. “Any ideas you have about Sam aren’t going to happen, he’s  _ mine. _ ”

James raises an eyebrow at the statement, still looking entirely too amused at the current situation. Riley debated on the likelihood of him besting the man in a fist fight just to knock that smug look off of his stupid face.

“Sammy, you got any beer?” James calls out, eyes still locked with Riley’s, gleaming with mischief.

And Riley scowled at the man, opening his mouth to repeat himself upon hearing the nickname fall effortlessly from James lips but stops short when Sam replies.

“Yeah, picked up some shitty Bud Light for you last night, I’ll bring you one in a sec.”

James is grinning at him outright now, knowing exactly what he was doing. The man reaches for the remote on the coffee table in front of him and clicks on the TV; tonight’s football game is already playing on the sports channel. Riley felt his eye twitch, knowing that Sam detested organized sports, so  _ clearly _ James had been the one to watch the television last. Riley refuses to give the smirking bastard the satisfaction of knowing he had successfully rattled him.

Riley stands up slowly, intending to walk right out of the house when Sam comes back into the living room, open beer in hand. Riley stares in disbelief as Sam doesn’t even look his way while he makes light steps towards James, holding the beer out. “Jazzy’ll want you to help her with the cake pops soon, don’t get too comfortable, mister.”

The sweet and teasing tone Sam spoke in lit a fire under Riley and when James accepted the cold beer with a dopey smile, fingers covering Sam’s own fingers for a second too long, he finally decided he’d seen enough.

“ _ Sam, _ ” he snaps, immediately getting the other two men’s attention with his sharp tone. “I need to talk to you - outside.”

“O-oh, okay,” Sam answers slowly, brows furrowed in confusion but he moves away from James, which does wonders for Riley’s blood pressure. The two of them head out towards the foyer and Riley starts to allow himself to relax, but seconds later James’ teasing voice calls out from behind them. 

“It was nice meeting you,  _ champ _ .”

***

“He said  _ what _ ?” Natasha hisses over brunch the next Sunday, clutching the flute of her champagne glass tightly.

Sam bites his lip, definitely sure he shouldn’t have told her the details of his and Riley’s separation that got a little physical this past Saturday. 

_ “So is this the part where you tell me you’ve decided to get back together with your husband?” Riley spoke harshly, the long awkward stretch of silence following the closing of Sam’s front door did nothing to sooth his irritation. _

_ Sam looked at him for the first time since they exited the house, eyes wide and expression offended. He scoffed and then glared at Riley. “No, but even if we were, this isn’t how you’d find out. Goodnight, Riley.” _

_ Riley grabbed Sam’s arm roughly when the man turned to go back into his house, intending to leave their conversation unfinished. “So that’s a ‘not yet’ not a ‘no’?” _

_ “That’s a ‘I need to finish making dinner and  _ you _ need to leave’.” _

_ With that Sam yanked his arm out of Riley’s grip and stomped up the porch steps away from the man. He only got three steps in before Riley’s words caused Sam to freeze on the spot and turn to gap at him in disbelief.  _

_ “If you’re such a loose slut why were you making me wait to get you on your back?” _

_ “Excuse me?” Sam demands, walking back down the steps with furious stomps to close the distance between him and this disrespectful bastard. How  _ dare _ Riley speak to him like that. A few dates don’t equate to shit, Sam didn’t owe the other man anything other than a smack across the face. _

_ “You heard me, slut,” Riley snarled at Sam, taking a step closer to the fuming man. “If I was paying for everything the  _ least _ you could have done was open your fucking legs. Now I show up here and you’re bending over for your ex? Real fucking classy.” _

_ “Leave.” Sam spat, fists clenching at his side. All he wanted to do at this moment was beat Riley’s face in, who the  _ hell _ does this guy think he is? _

_ Riley shoved harshly at Sam’s shoulder causing the slightly shorter man to stumble a step back due to the force. Sam looked at Riley in shock, never having thought the usually sweet man would get physical with him like this. “You think I put up with your bitch daughter for your  _ company _ , you dumb whore?” _

_ Sam’s gaze turned positively murderous at the insult to his child. _

_ “Don’t you ever disrespect my child and make that the  _ last  _ time you even think about putting your hands on me,” Sam growls, then throws his fist out to catch Riley right against the nose. The bone made a satisfying  _ cracking  _ sound and then a yelp of pain tore from Riley’s mouth, followed directly by a river of blood pouring from his nose. _

_ “Get off my property,” Sam instructed coldly, trying to ignore the slight throb in his hand - it had been  _ decades _ since he punched someone, the familiar rush dancing it’s way through his veins. Without another word, Sam turned away from the crumbling man and went back inside to finish dinner and also to discreetly ice his screaming knuckles. _

“It’s fine, ‘Tasha,” Sam says soothingly, reaching across the table to pat her clenched fist. “I punched him, he won’t be coming back.”

“He called you a  _ slut,  _ a  _ whore _ . He called my goddaughter a  _ bitch _ . He  _ pushed _ you,” She said in a dangerously low voice, eyes sharp and body rigid with tension. “I’m going to tell James and we’ll murder him together.”

“Don’t you dare, Natasha.”

“He can’t just get away with - “

“If he comes back I give you full permission to tell Bucky and the both of you can have fun torturing him. Until then, let it go, ‘Tash.” Sam pleads, wanting to put the entire (short) Riley chapter in his past already.

Natasha huffs, sitting back in her seat with unwilling acceptance. She glares into her mimosa for a few moments, no doubt having to talk herself out of going against Sam’s wishes and delivering two shots between Riley’s eyes. Sam calmly sips his tea, allowing his best friend to go through her usual theatrics in peace and when she does eventually let it go, she levels him with a sneaky grin.

“He’s back to  _ Bucky _ already, huh?” She teases.

“Oh my God,” Sam groans and Natasha cackles, moving on to ask when the second wedding would be and put in her request for a baby boy this next time around.

Sam throws his napkin at her, refusing to acknowledge the way his face is heating up under Natasha’s knowing gaze.

***

James was so fucking irritated it wasn’t even funny. 

The moment that he stepped into his apartment the night following the surprise visit from  _ Riley _ , he dove deep into the man’s past, just  _ knowing _ that something was off with the other man. The first thought that came to his mind while he was waiting on his work laptop to load, was that this search and his paranoia came entirely from the little green monster on his back. But, when the detailed  _ government _ database only went back the last four years for Riley Turner, he knew his intuition wasn’t off - it never was.

While he sat there thinking of all of the wild reasons Riley’s history seems to have started in 2017, his cellphone rang, informing him of an incoming call from his best friend. James momentarily pushes pause on his racing mind, always happy to hear from his pal, and answers the phone with his customary  _ ‘sup, bitch.  _ Of course, Steve chastises him for having such a potty mouth before filling him in on the latest with their old platoon and James settles in for the gossip Steve knows he’ll forget the second they hang up the phone.

Eventually, after James is informed of one divorce, a domestic violence case, failed espionage, and a shotgun wedding, the man turns the conversation towards James and what he’d been up to the past week. 

“Oh, you’re  _ screwed _ ,” Steve laughs on the other end of James’ line after the man finishes recounting the weekend he got to share with his baby girl and Sam. He may have accidentally let a lovesick sigh slip out when speaking his ex’s name. “Might as well tell him you wear both of your wedding rings around your neck.”

“Shut up, Rogers,” James snarks at his best friend and checks his watch. He cringes when he sees it's half past eleven; he had hoped to get a decent amount of sleep this evening.

“I’ll shut up, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re  _ still in love _ with your ex-husband.”

James sighs heavily, having had this conversation with the other man at least once a week since Steve found out about the chain James wears around his neck,  _ four years ago _ . The man had been empathetic, offered a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to all his woes for the first year. After that he became more and more aggressive about his stance on the situation. 

_ “You’re human, you fucked up. If you really want him back, do something about it.” _

And James always has the same response each time. 

“ _ I waited too long.” _

“Fury needs these reports in by 0900, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” James says, fully intending on drowning his sorrows in whatever liquor his cabinets held.

“Aw, Buck - c’mon I didn’t mean to -“

“Talk to you later, Stevie.”

James hangs up without another word. He knows his best friend’s heart is in the right place but the other man doesn’t even know about  _ Riley  _ yet. Any hopes James had at getting his baby back were shot to hell the second he laid eyes on the blond bastard. Sure, James took great pleasure in making Riley believe something more was going on between him and Sam, but truth be told, outside of a few brushes of their fingers and a single half-hug, nothing else has happened. 

  
And nothing  _ would _ happen between them; the last thing he wanted to do was get in the way of Sam’s happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam groans angrily into his pillow, the shrill ringing of his phone jerking him harshly out of a deep slumber. Whomever was on the other end of his phone better be dying or in jail or there would be _hell_ to pay.

After fumbling around on his nightstand in the dark and knocking over his alarm clock, reading glasses and water bottle, he finally manages to close his hand around the shrieking device. The brightness of the screen momentarily blinds him and once his eyes focus they immediately widened at seeing James’ name flashing across the screen. Sam hastily pushes the green accept button as he scrambles to a sitting position, heart thudding in his chest.

“James?” He whispers, reaching over to flick on his bedside lamp. “What’s going on?”

The man doesn't reply right away, but Sam hears heavy breathing and the clinking of glass so he waits a beat.

“Do you remember our first vacation together?” Comes the slurred question and Sam frowns, partially from the fact that James was drunk dialing him right now and partially from the unexpected question.

Of course Sam remembers. 

He and James had been eighteen and nineteen, respectively and spent the entire spring semester working on-campus jobs to afford round trip tickets to London. Neither teen had ever left the North American continent and came to the conclusion that this was another first they wanted to share together. The trip had been filled with mishaps, laughter, kisses, and adventure and somewhere along the way the young couple ended up professing their love and pledging to spend the rest of their lives together. 

The irony of James bringing that specific memory up was not lost on Sam. Here they were years later, divorced and unable to even talk about why they fell apart in the first place.

“Of course,” Sam says softly, leaning against his headboard. 

It’s quiet on the other end of the line and Sam waits, knowing the man brought the memory up for a reason. 

“I still promise.” 

And that isn’t _at all_ what Sam was expecting the other man to say, his mouth opens and closes a few times at a loss for what to say, how to _feel_ at his ex-husband’s drunken confession.

“James-“

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” the man says quickly. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”

“James, wait -“

“Goodnight, Sam.”

The line clicks before Sam could get another word in and a part of him is grateful; Sam wouldn’t have the ability to blame it on the alcohol for confessing to the man _just_ how in love _he_ still was, as well. He tosses his phone onto the bed, heart hammering in his chest, knowing there’s no way he’d be able to sleep now.

_“You’re it for me, you know that?” James said, his lowered voice almost drowned out by the main character bargaining with the villain for the lives of the hostages._

_He and Sam were cuddled together on a picnic blanket, full from fish and chips, enjoying an action movie in the park. They were halfway through their European vacation and James was_ so _sure at this point. He got to watch Sam jump rope with school kids, stop and pet every stray dog, coo at all felines in hearing distance and curse his allergies for making it impossible to pet the adorable furballs. James got to watch him try and fail to use chopsticks, then snicker adorably when their waiter silently deposited a fork and knife next to his plate; he got to be the one who Sam held onto as the rollercoaster dropped and the ferry teetered too heavily. The gift of making Sam cry from pleasure was all his._

_James was head over heels in love and couldn’t wait to propose to his boy._

_“Oh yeah?” Sam teased, brown eyes shining with happiness. He brought their joined hands up to kiss the back of James’. “Good, you’re it for me, too. I love you.”_

_James felt the blush take over his face, no longer caring that Sam exposed his soft and gooey center from the moment they bumped into each other in the library. He’d give anything to spend the rest of his days lost in pools of caramel, willing to take on all of life’s challenges as long as Sam was by his side._

_“I promise I’m gonna love you fiercely and forever, doll.”_

_Sam grinned up at him, craning his neck to give James a soft peck against his lips. “Fiercely and forever. You’re stuck with me, James Barnes.”_

_***_

“I have no doubt your ass will end up being late to your own wedding,” Sam snarks at his daughter through the phone as he sits and waits on her to join him at her choice of cafe. 

His darling daughter requested he join her for brunch on her way out the door to go shopping with her Aunt Natasha a few hours prior. Of course Sam is always happy to spend time with his baby and hurriedly cleared his schedule to free up his day. Truth be told, all he planned for the entire day was watching Schitt’s Creek and stuffing himself with wine and tacos until the sun came back up the following day, but no one needed to _know_ that.

Jasmine snickers on the other end of the line and Sam can hear Natasha’s voice demanding pretzels in the background. “I wonder just who I get my tardiness from.” 

“That would be your paler parent,” Sam jokes and ignores the way his heart thumps in his chest at the mere _thought_ of his ex-husband. 

The day that followed the man’s drunken confession was painfully uneventful as James didn’t seem to even recall the phone call when he stopped by on his way to the airport, _a last minute assignment_ that ended up taking him away for the next four days. The short visit was filled with James’ usual profanity-filled jokes, Jasmine’s snarky teenage commentary, and Sam’s exasperated chastisement of the _two_ children in his home. James was in and out within thirty minutes, not giving Sam any chance to bring up the conversation before he was making his way to his vehicle. 

“Speaking of papa, he’s running a few minutes late,” the girl shares matter-of-factly.

“Uh, _what -”_ Sam starts and stops in astonishment, knowing that if his daughter had mentioned her father was joining their lunch date he would have definitely remembered (and wore something that better accentuated his _ass_ ets). “You invited your father?”

“I totally told you papa was coming too,” Jasmine claims and Sam purses his lips to stop the reflex response of ‘you _totally did not, oh my god’._ Natasha has, more than once, pointed out that his vocabulary was becoming more and more like his daughter’s every day.

Sam sucks in a breath to calm himself and counts to three in his mind before speaking in a careful tone. “I would remember if you did, Jazz.”

The girl sniffs on the other end of the line and responds in a teary voice. “I’m sorry, daddy. I must have forgotten due to all of the studying I’m doing to prepare for final exams. It’s so overwhelming being a student in the twenty-first century and I just want to make you proud -”

“You’re so full of shit,” Sam cuts her off and can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when his kid giggles in response.

“I learned from the best,” she replies. “Was it _Aunt Gertrude_ that was on her deathbed and requested _you_ be the last person she saw before she ascended?”

“It was _Aunt Bertha_ ,” Sam corrects with a grin. “And did you want to explain to the officer that we were speeding to make it to a sale at Bergdorf?”

_“ We_ _?”_ Jasmine demands. “I wasn’t driving!”

“Nine months of carrying your ass and _this_ is how you do me?” Sam playfully scolds the girl.

“Be careful, you don’t want to get more wrinkles, daddy.” Jasmine replies and Sam can just _hear_ the satisfied smirk in her voice.

“ _More_?!” he exclaims in righteous indignation and hears Jasmine’s villainous cackle moments before the call ends with a click. 

Sam spends the next twelve minutes (and forty-eight seconds, but who’s counting?) glancing up every time the door jingles with a new arrival, praying his loud-mouth daughter shows up before her father does. Of course that isn’t what ends up happening, as James strolls through the doors that very moment.

“I’m late,” James says in lieu of a greeting when he’s close enough to their table to not disturb the other patrons in hearing distance, then takes the seat across from Sam. 

“It’s expected,” Sam replies with a raised eyebrow and tries to keep the smile off of his face as James sends a smirk his way.

“Mr. Punctual is judgy today,” he teases back.

Sam refuses to dwell on the shot of unadulterated happiness that’s coursing through his body as a result of just being near his ex-husband. If he dives further into that feeling, Sam would more than likely end up throwing himself at James and just praying for the best. His heart, naturally, sees nothing wrong with that, but his rational mind brings him full stop, pointing out how much of a _bad idea_ that would be considering the pair couldn’t communicate and verbalize their feelings to even save their marriage.

Now, with his hopes efficiently subdued for the moment, Sam decides to try and flirt a little less and talk about their kid a little more. He opens his mouth to steer the conversation in the direction of James and Jasmine’s summer plans when their waitress struts up to their table.

“Welcome back, handsome,” she greets James with a sultry smile. The man, to his credit, looks legitimately confused. 

“Have we met?” he asks cautiously, brows furrowed as he tries to place the girl’s face. 

Sam is now gazing at their waitress with an unimpressed, raised eyebrow. Let’s just ignore that he’d been sitting there for almost twenty minutes before James arrived and this was the _first_ time she walked her happy ass over here.

He allows himself to give her a once over while she tries barking up the wrong tree. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties with obviously dyed blonde hair, a spackle of freckles on an admittedly pretty face, a green polo shirt that looked to be a size too small on purpose with the name tag _Stacey_ on the left breast pocket of the shirt and the company’s logo on the right, with flattering skinny jeans and plain Vans.

_Stacey_ giggles obnoxiously, bringing dainty fingers up to partially cover her mouth as she flutters her eyelashes at James. “You came in with your niece a few weeks ago, I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

Sam’s gaze slides over to James and he has to physically bite his cheek to stop the scathing comments lounging on the tip of tongue in response to the man’s face lighting up in recognition. If Sam wasn’t entirely consumed with jealousy, he’d stop and remember that one, he is not with James and should not be concerned about any romantic relationships the man might be having and two, while it’s grossly unprofessional, the young woman technically isn’t doing anything wrong. He, himself, had one conversation with James Barnes on the day of their first meeting and immediately decided that the man was going to eventually be his husband, give him babies and grow old with him, so he can’t blame the infatuated waitress.

But he _can_ verbally tear her ass up.

“And yet you managed to forget to bring the menus, that’s amazing.” Sam cuts in, in an overly sweet voice, snapping Stacey and James’ attention to him. His sharp gaze doesn’t waiver as he locks eyes with their waitress, just daring her to say something slick to him.

“Oh, let me go grab those for you, _sir_ ,” she responds with a stiff smile, poorly concealed anger shining through her narrowed baby blues. 

“I appreciate you,” Sam offers flippantly as the young woman pivots on her heels to stomp away and he can’t help that his fake smile melts off of his face entirely, leaving a scowl in its place.

“You and your daughter,” James starts while shaking his head, sounding very amused, but Sam cuts him off with a glare before his brain catches up with his mouth.

“You mean _your niece?_ ”

James, who considered himself a professional Sam-Whisperer at one point, doesn’t look even slightly bothered by the man’s cutting tone and even smirks at his ex-husband. “If you’re jealous just say that.”

Sam’s gaze turns positively murderous, but only for a split second. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed loosely against his chest and he levels James with a smirk of his own. “Nothing to be jealous about, besides _I’m_ not the one who got banned from the local Ikea for punching a stranger - what was your reasoning, again?”

Sam feigns confusion, tapping a single finger against his chin. “Oh that’s right, he was quote unquote looking at your husband too long.”

James is glaring at him now and Sam feels very triumphant in that moment. “He _literally_ leaned back to watch you bend over, Samuel.”

Sam shrugs, never planning on telling his ex-husband about how the man followed him into the kitchen utensil area and propositioned him, quite aggressively. Obviously, the strange man didn’t take Sam’s polite decline to heart and then proceeded to follow him all the way back to the checkout line where he then mustered up every ounce of audacity and decided to act like a pervert right in front of Sam’s husband.

Now, Sam doesn’t usually condone violence, but something about his man going all Neanderthal and protecting his dignity was _so hot_ and he’d been physically unable to stop himself from ripping James’ clothing off and riding him like a professional cowboy the second they arrived home. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re just lucky his ego was more bruised than his face; you would’ve caught a whole charge all because you’re a hot head,” Sam taunted, noticing Stacey making her way back to their table in his peripheral, menus in hand.

“And I’d do it again,” James mutters darkly, glaring a hole into their table.

Stacey steps up to their table and unceremoniously plops Sam’s menu down without even glancing his way, then turns fully to James with a flirty smile bright on her face as she flutters her eyelashes. “Today’s specials are the half-off mimosa pitchers, I’ll be back for your drink order, handsome.”

James looks completely baffled by the forcefulness of their waitress and gets extremely uncomfortable when she trails light fingers over his shoulder as she goes to check on another one of her tables. Sam, much to his own surprise, doesn’t say anything and simply snatches up his menu and ensures his entire face is covered so he can direct his laser glare to their alcohol section instead of his ex-husband. If James doesn’t feel it’s necessary to strongly rebuke the inappropriate advances, then far be it for Sam to speak up, lest he be accused of being jealous again.

“I don’t know why she’s-“ James starts in a careful tone and Sam quickly cuts him off.

“I’m feeling peach mimosas today, what about you?” He asks in an unbothered tone, still concealing his face.

James sighs from the other side of his menu-fence. “Sammy -“

“Or maybe cranberry,” Sam muses, refusing to talk about it, because again, it’s not his place. He didn’t want to be the reason their light atmosphere turned hostile and just needed to keep the conversation geared towards the menu options until Jasmine got there.

“I didn’t think you were actually upset, or -“

Sam snacks his menu down onto the tabletop, scooting his chair backwards away from the table. With an obviously fake smile he looks at James with tense eyes. “I’m going to head to the bathroom and then check on Jazz, please order a pitcher of peach mimosas when our _waitress_ returns, thank you.”

Without waiting on an affirmative, Sam stalks off towards the bathrooms to calm himself the fuck down (and also to call his kid and demand she hurry up and get there). The phone call he makes does the literal opposite of calming him down.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Sam hisses into his phone as he paces back and forth in the empty bathroom.

“Well, daddy, Auntie Tasha and I went for mani pedis - my feet aren’t even done soaking yet.”

Sam pulls the phone away from his ear and pinches the bridge of his nose to avoid spazzing out. He’d been confused at first, but now it’s become very clear what his daughter was trying to do and he was _not_ OK with it. Unbeknownst to their spawn, he and James can’t even get through a simple meal alone without one, if not both of them, pissing the other one off and cementing exactly why there was no _getting back together_ in the stars for them.

Sam doesn’t admit it to himself, but he can’t help but feel like _he_ was the problem in their marriage. James’ career began flourishing after their divorce and while they’d been together Sam found himself constantly pointing out how much time his husband _didn’t_ spend with their kid. James and Jasmine were thick as thieves now, more alike in ways her and Sam weren’t.

“Jazzy, you have to stop,” he says softly, refusing to be angry with his baby for doing what she thought would make him happy.

Jasmine is quiet on the other end of the line for a moment and when she does eventually speak it’s whispered and worried. “Are you OK, daddy? Did something happen?”

The man’s heart swells with love for his kid, never having doubted how good of a person Jasmine was becoming. “Everything’s fine, baby. Enjoy your mani pedis, I’ll see you at home?”

“We can order pizza and I’ll show you what I bought today,” the girl says, sounding more animated now that she’d been reassured her daddy was not harmed. 

“Sounds good, princess.”

Their phone call ends and Sam stands in front of the mirror, mind made up. He’d walk back out to their table, apologize profusely to James for his shitty behavior and then take his ass home to indulge in wine and sad R&B jams until his kid got home. There was no point in continuing this awkward lunch when his ex-husband clearly had better, _eager_ options available to him.

“You sound so miserable,” he mutters to himself. Sam shakes the incoming dark thoughts away, quickly washes his hands and then exits the bathroom.

James is nursing a mimosa-filled champagne flute in one hand while the other taps away on his phone screen, brows furrowed in concentration, alerting Sam that he was probably corresponding with someone from work. With a smile plastered on his face Sam slides back into his seat.

“Jazzy got held up so she’s not going to be able to make it,” he shares when James looks up at him.

James nods and smiles softly. “I know, she texted me a while ago.”

“She-“ Sam stops short, not even sure why he bothers. Jasmine was as hard headed as James and took to scheming like a duck to water. “Of course she did.”

Sam folds his hands in his lap, preparing to inform James that he would be taking his leave and then would offer to pay for the pitcher he ordered when an older man with kind eyes sauntered up to their table.

“Hey, there, I’m Phil, SHIELD Cafe’s manager and I was informed of a situation with one of my staff.”

Sam's eyes slid over to James who’d gone back to his phone as if the man wasn’t even there, leaving Sam to deal with whatever lies that little trollop ran and told on him.

“On behalf of Stacey, I sincerely apologize for such unprofessional behavior and will personally be taking care of you both for the rest of your visit.”

Sam tried not to gap at the man but was entirely too caught off guard not to. “I- um, oh. Okay, thank you.”

Phil gives him a polite smile. “It’s the least I can do and please consider your meal complimentary today. I’ll give you time to look over the menu.”

With that, the man took his leave. When Phil disappeared into the kitchen only then did Sam look at James with wide eyes, a smile fighting it's way onto his lips. “What did you _do_ , James Barnes?”

“I’m allowed to piss you off, nobody else is,” James then shrugs as if to say _it was no big deal_ and gently scoots the second champagne flute closer to Sam. “They have grits on the menu, you want to share some?”

God, Sam is so in love it’s not even funny anymore.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Sam deposits the takeout he picked up on the way home onto the kitchen counter, pulling his cell phone from his back pocket when it beeps with a text notification.

_ From: Babygirl _

_ To: Sam _

_ Sleepover w/ Lily _

Sam rolls his eyes at the message sent in response to his inquiry on his kid’s whereabouts and then eyes the Indian food he ordered for the two of them. His darling daughter forgot to mention that she made other arrangements for her evening, changing from their scheduled daddy-daughter movie night. The man tries his best not to pout; he just wanted to spend some more time with his kid before James whisks her away for the majority of her summer break. 

Sure, James had become a regular at the Wilson household as of late, but Sam had no idea if he would be extended the same olive branch. There’s this little voice in the back of his head that tells him  _ of course  _ he’d be allowed to visit, considering James indirectly revealed that he was still in love with Sam.

Since the revelation Sam has been incapable of going more than five minutes without thinking about James Barnes and how in love with his ex-husband he still was, as well. It had been easy to force himself to try and move on when James made no effort to bridge the gap that had been wedged between them; that paired with Sam having been so  _ tired _ of fighting that the silence remained for the next eight years. Now that the man was so comfortable around him, it dredged up questions about just what was so hard in their past.

Before Sam could stop and think about what exactly he was doing, the man already pressed  _ send _ on a spur of the moment text.

_ From: Sam _

_ To: James Barnes _

_ Jazz ditched me. Indian for dinner, you in? _

_ What’re you doing?! _ His brain screams at him frantically when his message reads  _ delivered _ . 

Sam quickly locks his phone and flips it face down on the counter in his panic, unable to believe he really just did that. In what world is it okay to invite your ex-husband over for a late night dinner, for just the two of you? He has to remind himself to  _ breathe _ , hoping (and praying) that James was busy and wouldn’t see the text until a few hours from now, shoot him an apology for the late response and then wish him a good night.

Forty-five seconds go by (Sam actually counts them out slowly in his head) and his phone makes no noise, helping his raging heart calm down just a bit. He lets out a chuckle, thinking of how quickly he tends to overreact and has no doubt James thought the text was just as weird as he did and ignored it. Sam nods once to himself, deciding to give his attention to the delicious smelling food bundled into the takeout bag, and moves to unpack all of the items he ordered. 

He eyes the extra naan he requested, happy that he wouldn’t have to fight his daughter for eating all of it before he even got a piece ( _ this _ time) and he rips a generous tear off, popping it into his mouth. He’s only a few chews in when his phone chimes loudly in the silent kitchen. Sam will admit to violently flinching, then gasping and nearly choking due to his stuffed mouth. The man thumps his chest and coughs harshly to dislodged the food trapped in his throat, attempting to put off the impending death he feels lingering as he picks up his phone, eyes zeroing in on James’ name in his notification center. 

_ Oh, God, _ Sam thinks desperately, not wanting to open the message and wishing he could take the invitation back just to save himself from the embarrassment of being rejected. With a deep breath, Sam opens the message.

_ From: James Barnes _

_ To: Sam _

_ Be there in 20- bringing wine. _

Sam gaps at the message, thoroughly floored that James hadn’t told him to fuck off. He fumbles for a reply and settles on sending a simple thumbs up emoji to avoid making himself look stupid. Then he hovers over Natasha’s text thread, debating on whether or not he should inform her of his anticipated dinner partner.

Quickly deciding against it, he deposits his phone onto the counter and rushes to his room to freshen up and change. Only because he’s been wearing these clothes all day, okay? There’s no other reason. 

Really.

In seventeen minutes Sam manages to take the world's fastest shower, aggressively towel off, slather lotion over his body, shimmy through a mist of his cologne and shove his limbs into gray sweatpants and a black tank top. If he’s out of breath as he’s leaning against the kitchen counter afterwards, then that's his business, alright?

The doorbell rings right as Sam places the last of the cutlery onto the coffee table and he has to physically stop himself from running to the door in excitement.

“Chill out,” he chastises himself softly then waits a beat before heading to the door at a more respectable pace. 

Sam isn’t sure whether it’s his nerves, the knowledge that James still  _ loves _ him or the fact that he’s  _ always _ thought James was the most attractive man on the face of planet Earth, but when he pulls open the door and locks eyes with his ex-husband Sam almost  _ swoons _ .

James must have come directly from work, as he still wore his pressed moss green slacks and crisp white dress shirt. He’s sans jacket (which Sam is thankful for, since seeing the other man in full uniform always did  _ things _ to him) and was putting his collarbone on display by way of the undone button of his shirt. James’ long hair was pulled up into a messy topknot, a few escaping pieces of hair adding an extra layer of sexy to his ex. 

In an attempt to stop eye-fucking his guest Sam’s gaze moved onto the wine bottle dangling from the other man’s fingers and smiled up at James as he waved him inside. “Is that a du bellay?”

Sam will proudly admit that his favorite indulgence is fancy wine, the more expensive the better. Not to toot his own horn, but he could consume two bottles on his own and only be  _ horrendously _ tipsy (never blackout drunk, he’s  _ classy _ , okay?). The only problem is that along with getting him loose and comfortable, too much wine never failed to make him all hot and bothered, needing to work the alcohol out of his system in  _ certain _ ways. Obviously Sam will only be having one glass tonight.

“Maybe, maybe not.” James smirks and makes his way to the living room with Sam at his heels, eyes appreciating the cling of fabric against his ex’s backside. Yeah, changing that to half a glass; completely sober and already thinking nasty things about James is  _ not _ a good sign. He’d keep the conversation light, eat good food, drink some wine and then send the man on his way. As long as there was no deviating from the plan, there will be no issues.

Besides, he invited James over for  _ dinner _ and that’s all they would be getting into.

****

“I fucked up, I fucked  _ up _ . Natasha, answer your phone, oh my god.” Sam whispers in a panic as he’s sitting on the floor of his bedroom with his back against the foot of his bed.

It takes three excruciatingly long rings for his best friend to answer the phone and when she does her voice is breathless and rushed. “What did you do?”

If Sam wasn’t in the middle of a legendary freak-out he’d definitely be offended that Natasha automatically assumes he did something wrong - or at least pretend to be. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on considering just about every time he calls her in the middle of the night he  _ had _ actually done something he either needed her assistance getting him out of or needed her no-bullshit advice to help him make the right decision (admittedly, he called once to get bailed out, but that wasn’t  _ his  _ fault).

“I - “ Sam starts to explain but stops when he hears disgruntled mumbling close to the phone - a man’s voice complaining about the color of his balls.

“Hands  _ off _ , Barton.” Natasha hisses and the sound of a sharp smack reaches Sam’s ears, along with a pained whine from the man. “I’m on the phone.”

Sam finds himself grimacing, in spite of his situation. “Tasha, please tell me you didn’t pause  _ whatever _ you and Clint were doing to answer my call.”

Natasha sucks her teeth in response to his statement, making it clear she thought  _ Sam _ was insane for even questioning which was more important and then moves on entirely. She instructs him to hold on for one second while she goes to the other room - the one without  _ horny, impatient birdbrains _ . Sam can’t help the private smile that stretches across his face at the surge of affection he feels for the woman, eternally grateful for the never-changing, comforting presence of his best friend.

“Now, what did you do?” Natasha asks after a few moments, patient and ready to help, as always.

He bites his lip, unsure of where to start.

_ Sam was tense, unbelievably tense; their chill, no-big-deal dinner was going  _ too _ well.  _

_ The bottle of wine James brought with him was hands down one of the best Sam ever had the pleasure of tasting, thus, the one glass rule was forcefully shoved to the back of his mind as he eagerly held his glass out for a refill. Sam drinking almost the entire bottle of wine by himself was not a problem, but James informing him with a smirk that he bought three bottles and the other two were still in the car was  _ actually _ a problem.  _

_ Granted, there hadn’t been an issue when Sam was popping open the second bottle and filling his glass to the top, nor had it been an issue when James announced he was switching to beer after his third glass of wine, and it also wasn’t an issue when Sam relaxed back into the plush couch, nursing his sixth glass of wine. It was, however, an issue when Sam opened the third bottle and decided to cut out the middleman and ditch his wine glass. One moment he was making a mental note to search high and low for this specific wine whenever he woke up in the morning and the next he was replaying vivid memories of James folding him like a pretzel and fucking him like a whore. _

_ Rough hands exploring his body, gripping his ass, closing around his throat, capturing his wrists and leaving him at the mercy of the one man he’ll always be in love with entirely takes over Sam’s mind. He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes to bask in the passionate recollection of his once-spicy sex life, leaving the nearly empty wine bottle clutched between his thighs, until James’ teasing voice floats to his ears. _

_ “I don’t believe it, Sam Wilson can’t handle his wine anymore.” _

_ Sam has to swallow the reflex response on the tip of his tongue that wanted to inform James that while he might not be able to handle wine as expertly as he once had, he could  _ definitely  _ still handle James’ dick. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes to prevent the filthy thoughts from tumbling out of his mouth. Sam looks over to his ex-husband, intending to joke that the man was trying to get him drunk, and immediately regrets it. James’ cheeks adopted a faint flush to them due to his alcohol consumption, face relaxed and smiling, and at some point while Sam was dreaming about them being tangled together in his new Egyptian cotton sheets the man’s long hair was released from it’s bun, allowing the strands to flow freely.  _

_ Adding to the perpetually long list, James’ hair has always been one of Sam’s favorite features on the man (in addition to his smile, his eyes, his ass, his arms - we’ll be here all day). It was no secret between the two of them that James enjoyed having Sam pull his hair; loved the tugs that resulted from overwhelming pleasure as Sam sobbed his name, craved the caring fingers carting through his hair as they lounged together in sated-silence.  _

_ In his tipsy state Sam was left gazing lovingly at James, no sassy response to the man’s teasing. The thoughts consuming his mind would not have been so bold had he been sober, but all he wanted to do was grab his ex-husband and lead them both to his bedroom. _

_ “Sammy?” James asks, concerned by the lack of response from the man beside him. “You alright?” _

_ Sam opens his mouth to reassure James that he was fine and just needed to call it a night, but that isn’t what happens. The wine bottle was discarded carelessly onto the floor, the miniscule amount of liquid not even spilling from the bottle, and Sam fists his ex-husband’s shirt, wrenching him closer to crash their lips together. _

_ James lets out a grunt of surprise at the unexpected turn to their evening but quickly gets with the program, hands moving to his ex-husband’s waist to coax him back onto the couch, their lips refusing to part. Sam spreads his legs, allowing James to cover him entirely with his larger body, the heavy weight comforting and familiar, even after all this time. Their frantic lip locking escalates to a tangle of tongues, lewd whimpers escaping Sam’s mouth as James wastes no time in dragging his hands underneath the thin tank-top, skilled fingers dancing their way up his ex’s trim torso. _

_ Sam pulls back slightly from the kiss when the burning in his lungs becomes too great to ignore, chest rumbling with a deep moan when James immediately begins attacking his neck with feverish bites and soothing licks. _

_ “Don’t stop,” Sam pants, wrapping his legs around James, brushing their groins together and sending a shot of pleasure up both of their spines, successfully raising the temperature in the hot room. Sam’s eyes slide closed in pleasure as his hands sink into James’ hair; he tugs  _ just so _ , grinning in triumph as James shudders against him. _

_ “Fuck, Sam,” the man curses warmly against his neck. James pushes his ex’s top up as far as it could go and then  _ growls _ at him. “Take it off.” _

_ Sam shivers from the commanding, no-room-for-bullshit tone the man spoke in and nodded frantically, lowering his legs as the man moved back to allow space for Sam to sit up. Apparently, Sam wasn’t moving fast enough and so James grips the hem of the tank top and pulls the fabric from his body in one swift move, connecting their lips as soon as the offending cloth was out of the way. _

_ The need to be skin-to-skin had Sam’s fingers unbuttoning the dress shirt with impatient fingers, eager to run his hands over every inch of his ex-husband’s built chest and abs. Sam manages to unlatch two buttons before a chain falls free and catches his attention, knowing for a fact that the only jewelry James wore in the past was his wedding band and the occasional watch. Then, as he and James continued to passionately re-acquaint themselves with each other’s mouth, Sam’s curiosity caused his fingers to abandon the buttons and gently pull the chain from it’s confines. When the pads of his fingers travel down to the jewelry hanging onto the chain, Sam’s heart stops in his chest. _

_ He pulls back from the kiss sharply, the gravity of their situation hitting him like a splash of frigid water. Sam moves his head slightly to the side when James moves back in to keep kissing him, effectively ending whatever the hell they thought they were doing right now. _

_ Here they were coming off of eight years of silence following an emotional divorce, getting hot and heavy without having a single conversation pertaining to  _ why _ they divorced in the first place and  _ what _ needed to be addressed before any attempt at being anything more than co-parents was made. They don’t have the luxury of falling back into the way things were and just hoping for the best, they have a child together and her needs come first. Jasmine deserves more than a spur of the moment, wine-fueled fuck derailing the tentative dynamic they settled into over the past few weeks. _

_ “What’s wrong?” James asks, looking at Sam with worried eyes. _

_ Sam’s gaze drops to the matching wedding bands between his fingers, vividly remembering how he’d carelessly tossed the beautiful ring before demanding they divorce. He remembers how hurt he was that he wasn’t enough for his husband to come home anymore, how Jasmine would ask for her papa every night and then put on a brave face when she would find out about another broken promise from James. _

_ “I shouldn't have done that,” Sam whispers brokenly, releasing the rings and pushing lightly against James’ chest, needing to get away before he started crying in front of the man. “You need to leave.” _

_ “What, Sam-” James starts, confused and unmoving. _

_ “James, leave.” Sam says more forcefully, throat tight with the effort it was taking to keep the tears at bay.  _

_ James’ expression morphed from confusion to disbelief. He sat back and allowed Sam to scoot away from him and watched as the man snatched his shirt up and tugged it roughly over his head, then retreated into the kitchen without so much as a glance his way. _

“Sam.” Natasha says in a disapproving tone.

“I know.” he mutters helplessly, miserably. 

There’s a huff on the other end of the line followed by a long stretch of silence. Sam doesn’t speak, knowing Natasha is coming up with a nicer way to call him a  _ stupid fuckup. _

“How you, a licensed psychiatrist, can be so terrible at deciphering your own feelings and communicating is beyond me,” she says in a sharp tone and Sam pouts but stays silent. “You should’ve known better, Sam. This wasn’t fair to James, to Jazz, or, believe it or not, you.”

“I’m a terrible person,” Sam moans on the other line, consumed with guilt.

“No, you’re not.” Natasha says and the eye-roll is audible. “You just don’t think sometimes.”

Sam would argue that “most of the time” is a better fit, but decides against it. He screwed this up with his bad decision making skills and affinity for tasty wine, so he’d march over to James’ apartment tomorrow and apologize for his inappropriate actions and ask that this evening not cause a rift in the friendship Sam still wanted to have with the man.

Sam hoped he didn’t ruin everything, but had the feeling he already had.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit longer than I intended, sorry. (:

_Sam sighed heavily as he leaned against the kitchen island and picked at his pie, not really eating any of the dessert. Currently, he was putting off starting on the post-dinner clean up, never in the mood to wash dishes. His tiring morning turned into an annoying afternoon and then rounded off with a shit-filled night._

_First, he got the pleasure of waking up at 5:30 in the morning to his kid bursting into his room, face wet with tears and sobbing her little heart out. After he shoved aside his initial panic and sat the girl down to talk to him, he was able to decipher through her sniffles and hiccups that no, she was not hurt, but she, under no circumstances, would be going back to her room because of the scary noises coming from her closet that woke her up. It took an hour and a half of cuddles and monster hunting to get the girl back to sleep and by the time he was closing the door to her bedroom, the sun had begun to peek through the curtains, forcing him to begrudgingly start his day._

_Then, while he was making lunch Jasmine’s glee filled scream cut through the quiet house, followed by her rushing into the kitchen and informing him that she went swimming in the dirty clothes room. He made quick steps towards their laundry room and had to clench his jaw to stop all of the swear words that were begging to be let out at the sight of the busted pipe spewing water all over the small room. Three hours and $400 later, he was ready for the day to be over._

_To complete the night his darling daughter decided that she would_ not _be consuming vegetables and wanted some cherry pie to follow the rotisserie chicken she eagerly stuffed in her mouth. Naturally, Sam gave her the “veggies are good for you” spiel and when that didn’t work he used his “I’m the parent” voice, which only caused his stubborn spawn to throw a tantrum for the books. Ten minutes of Jasmine’s high pitched shrieks was more than his nerves could handle and so he sent the girl to bed with no dessert_ and _no bedtime story. Sam gives himself kudos for not whooping her butt when she had the nerve to knock her plate to the floor on her way out, as his parents definitely would have done to him._

_He just wanted to go to bed, at this point._

_With another sigh he pushes away from the island, aiming to get the kitchen clean as quick as possible and maybe treat himself to some wine and a bubble bath before he passes out for the night. Sam’s elbow-deep in sudsy dish-water when he hears a door close nearby and decides that he has_ had it _. If his daughter wants to be a brat today, she’d get her little butt spanked to remind her that this behavior was not acceptable. With a huff he snatches the towel from the countertop, roughly drying his hands as he stomps into the living room, scowl set on his face. Sam stutters to a halt when he sees just who was waiting for him, heart thumping wildly in his chest._

_“Miss me?” James asks with a smirk on his face, unknowingly lifting a near unbearable weight from his husband's chest and making Sam fall in love all over again._

_A wide grin breaks out over Sam’s face as he drops the towel on the floor and rushes towards his husband, leaping into his waiting arms with a happy squeal. “You’re home!”_

_The man was not due home for another three weeks; some “important assignment” kept the small family apart for the last two months and Sam was miserable without his husband. Their calls were too short and the video chats were too grainy to satisfy his constant aching for his lover. Now that the man had returned, Sam planned to lock him in their bedroom and never let him leave again._

_“I’ll take that as a yes,” James laughs between Sam’s frantic kisses and tightens his hold on the man’s waist as he turns around and walks them to their bedroom without another word spoken._

_Later, when they’re both boneless and the sweat has cooled on their skin, Sam cuddles up to his husband with a content sigh. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”_

_James hums, pulling Sam closer, one hand moving to cup a supple cheek with a firm grip. Sam had long since stopped teasing his man about the obsession with his butt. If James wasn’t looking at it, he was either smacking it, palming it or biting it._

_Sam did not mind one bit._

_“Oh, Jazzy will be so happy you’re here,” Sam says, nuzzling into James’ neck and pressing a small kiss to the skin there. “She’s been a terror these past few days, she obviously misses her papa.”_

_James stiffens slightly, though it goes unnoticed by Sam as he continues his excited chatter. “I cannot wait to see her face when she lays eyes on you.”_

_“Baby-”_

_“Did I tell you a damn pipe burst in the laundry room? Jazz was having a field day in there before she even came and told me; if I wasn’t pissed about having to spend money on repairs, I would have taken a picture of her. She looked like a drowned cat.”_

_“Sammy, I can’t stay.”_

_Sam sits up, then, the sheets pooling at his waist as he twists to look at his husband with incredulous eyes. “What do you mean you can’t stay?”_

_James sighs heavily, having wanted more time with his baby before he had to drop this bomb on their happy reunion, knowing the moment he informed Sam that he’d have to leave a lot sooner than they’d like, the light and fluffy atmosphere would vanish completely. He sits up against the headboard and looks at his husband with an apologetic expression. “I only got permission for a short leave, sweetheart.”_

_James wishes he was being dramatic when he says it broke his heart to see such sadness take over Sam’s beautiful face. The man averts his eyes and speaks softly as he picks at a loose thread on the sheet. “How long?”_

_“Sam-”_

_“How long, James?”_

_The military man sighs again, knowing there was no going around this. “My flights at 7.”_

_Sam’s head snaps up to pin him with a vicious glare. “A.M.? As in less than six hours from now?”_

_James nods slowly and stays silent, knowing nothing he says right now would help him with the giant pile of shit he just stepped in. He knows he made the right decision when Sam roughly wraps the sheets around his waist as he angrily climbs out of the bed and starts in on his husband._

_“So what the_ fuck _was this, James?” He snarls. “You carved out enough time to get your dick wet and then you just - what? Hop on the next flight out of the country? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”_

_“Sam -”_

_“What am I, some callboy? Were you going to leave a couple fifties on the dresser when you sneak out? Un-fucking-believable! You don’t even have a few more hours to spare to see your daughter, who you haven’t seen in_ _two months?!"_

 _Sam turns on the spot and takes a single step towards the bathroom before he decides he’s not done with James and pivots back around. “You know what, I won’t even tell Jasmine you were here. Spare_ one of us _from this huge fucking disappointment.”_

 _“Fuck, Sam!” James explodes, shooting up from the bed to give his husband the argument he was obviously looking for. “What the fuck do you want me to do? This is my_ job _, if I don’t want to be a Private First Class for the next two years I have to put in the hours!”_

_“I don’t give a damn if you’re First Lieutenant Bootlicker! Your family should come before your bullshit job!” Sam shouts at him. “You leave me alone to raise our daughter for damn near the whole year, every year for four years, and you just think that’s okay?!”_

_“My_ bullshit _job keeps the fucking lights on,” James spits at his husband as he snatches up his discarded underwear and shoves his legs through the holes._

 _Sam scoffs at James, pulling the sheets tighter around his body. “Don’t you dare act like_ you _weren’t the one who wanted me at home, barefoot and pregnant. Taking care of your kid and your house, all by my goddamn self!”_

_“You know what - “_

_“No, I don’t fucking know. I don’t know why I put up with this shit. The next time you only have enough time for a booty call - take your ass to a hotel!” Sam screams at him and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him._

Sam jerks awake, his neck screaming in protest at the awkward angle he dozed off in. One moment he was sitting in his office adding notes to the file of his last patient, reminding himself of topics they needed to get into during their follow-up session and the next he was being woken up by the slamming of the front door. He has half a mind to call out his daughter for being so damn rough, but decides against it as her upset voice calls out to him. 

“Dad!”

“In my office,” he hollers back, wondering what junior high school drama caused his kid to sound so pissy today.

Sam yawns loudly, resolving to go to bed a little earlier tonight just as Jasmine shoves the large door open and pins him with a withering glare, the door smacking against the wall. He raises an eyebrow at the careless handling of the fragile door. “Jesus, Jazz - that’s _glass_ , could you be more careful?”

“What did you do?” the girl hisses at him and all joking immediately leaves his body at her hostile tone.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but it would be best if you talk to me like you have some common sense.” he chastises sharply, always willing to talk things out with his kid, but draws the line at blatant disrespect.

“What did you do to papa?” she demands, ignoring his statement entirely, looking fit to kill.

 _Oh_.

Okay, this makes a minuscule of sense now. Sam’s pledge to apologize “tomorrow” to James for his abhorrent behavior during their dinner didn’t work out too well. Not because James had been a jerk and refused to speak to him (which he would be well within his right), no Sam would’ve had to actually go over to James’ place for that to happen.

The morning following the unfortunate incident brought overwhelming embarrassment and guilt, causing him to put apologizing off for the next day, hoping that with an additional twenty-four hours he would be able to look James in the eye like an adult and articulate how sorry he was.

Then, the day after that he freaked out about _what_ to say, _how_ to clean up the mess he made, which prompted him to pull out a notebook and write draft after draft of an apology note. With each ball of paper tossed _sort of_ near the trash can, the less Sam thought that writing the note was a good idea. An apology should come from the heart, right? Not read off of a piece of paper. And just like the final incomplete draft of his Sorry I Suck and Not in a Good Way note, the idea was tossed in the trash.

The next day brought the bright idea to make an apology meal for his ex-husband and while James was stuffing his face, Sam would apologize profusely, hoping the man was too preoccupied by the food to actually pay too much attention to how awkward Sam would be. Of course with the new idea brought new apprehensions - what should he cook? What single meal says “I’m so so sorry for being an idiot and making things weird,”? While Sam stood in the aisle at the grocery store with an empty basket, a package of beef in one hand and a whole chicken in the other, he came to the halting realizing that just because James loved specific dishes from their marriage days did not mean he held the same preferences now. That fact that they were nearly strangers at this point caused his heart to clench painfully in his chest. Effectively overwhelmed and on the brink of tears, Sam deposited the basket back in it’s designated stack and left the store empty-handed.

Unbeknownst to him, his spawn must have had a lunch date with James and found out that her parents weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment. While Sam is of the opinion that Jasmine has a right to be upset, he is not going to sit here and let his daughter get slick with him.

“The private matter between your father and I will be the least of your concerns if you don’t bring it down a notch,” he warns her, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms, looking completely unimpressed with his child.

Jasmine stands her ground, fists balled at her side as she challenges her daddy’s fierce gaze. “How did papa already see my painting that I finished on Saturday when _I_ hadn’t seen him since last Thursday?”

Sam has an irrational moment where he somehow musters up the gall to be irritated with James for unintentionally revealing he’d been there whilst Jasmine was out. Of course, his _rational_ mind points out that James is hardly to blame for his own impulsive decisions. It doesn’t help that his rational mind sounds a lot like Natasha, effectively scolding him without the woman herself having to speak a word.

Sam huffs, trying to chase away the emotions swirling around his head in an attempt to be calm when addressing his irate daughter. “Jazz -“

“You’re doing this on _purpose_ and I want to know why! Is it Riley?! Is that jerkoff that much more important to you than papa is?”

“Riley has absolutely nothing to do with -“

“Why did papa say no to having dinner here on Friday? Why did he say he’d send a car to pick me up instead of coming himself? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Sam is out of his seat in a second, palms slamming on his desk in rage. “That is _enough,_ Jasmine! If you think you’re going to get away with shouting and _cursing_ at me, you are sadly mistaken, little girl.”

“You ruin _everything_!” Jasmine yells at him, voice cracking with emotion as tears well up in her eyes. “I hate you!” 

Sam stomps down the stabbing hurt the words bring, refusing to allow the emotion to show on his face.

“I’m not exactly your biggest fan right now, either. Go to your room.” He instructs her, tone leaving no room for further argument. 

By the grace of God, he manages to stay put when his daughter turns on the spot and purposefully shoves his office door harshly into the wall as she storms out of his office, pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs. It takes a full minute of deep breathing to calm himself and when his heart goes back to a normal rate, he deflates, falling back into his chair.

“You _do_ ruin everything,” he whispers to himself and then let’s his head thump down on a stack of patient notes, hating himself more than anyone else could at that moment.

***

James is torn.

On one hand all he wants to do is barge into Sam’s home and demand he explain what the _fuck_ happened the other night, but on the other hand, he can’t believe he was so stupid and allowed things to progress as far as they had. He’s well past the point of lying to himself, knowing he’d move hell and high water to be with Sam again, this time holding on to his baby until his last breath. Over the past four days he’s picked up his keys and made his way down to the parking garage about half a dozen times, each trip giving his mind just enough time to bring up another valid reason that he _shouldn’t_ just show up at Sam’s house and expect the man to talk to him. James just wants to understand what went wrong, they’d both been into it ( _really, really_ into it, in his case) and then suddenly his ex-husband was treating him like a leper and kicking him out.

With a heavy sign, James checks his watch and decides he should probably get up and get dressed so Steve doesn’t bitch him out for taking forever. He clicks off his television and frees himself from the overly plush couch he spent more time on than in his actual bed. His foot _just_ touches the landing step when the sound of the lock for his front door clicking grabs his attention, making him backtrack and poke his head around to corner the same moment Steve swings the door open.

James scowls at the man. “What part of _for emergencies only_ did you not grasp?”

Steve grins at him as he kicks the front door closed, toeing his workout shoes off. “The _only_ part, I guess.”

“So annoying,” James mutters to himself and lets the conversation drop, knowing Steve loved to rile him up, like the little shit he was. “I’m going to get dressed, stay out of my fucking fridge.”

Chuckling, Steve deposits his keys on the entryway table and heads in the direction of the kitchen, unperturbed by James’ warning growl. “I’ll make sure not to eat your leftover pizza and drink your liquor, since that’s all you ever have anyway.”

James doesn’t even bother replying, knowing that Steve was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. With one last withering glare at his friend’s departing form he leaves to go get dressed. 

Steve’s in the kitchen drinking a glass of water and munching on a piece of cold pizza when the doorbell rings a few moments later and James’ voice floats down the steps asking him to answer the door. He quickly swallows the mouthful of cheesy goodness and deposits the slice onto a paper towel, making his way to the door. 

“Can I have a piece of pizza in payment?” he throws over his shoulder, unable to stop his grin when James threatens to choke him out if a single slice of his pizza is gone when he gets down there.

When Steve opens the door the last person on Earth he expects to see is the fabled ex-husband. 

James thought he was sneaky, tucking a single picture into his combat boots whilst they were stationed in Afghanistan on their first tour together, years ago. It took _months_ for Steve to separate the man from the picture he guarded like his most prized possession, never leaving the room without it. One evening when their platoon was able to get shit-faced and enjoy a night of rowdiness, Steve snuck back into their quarters and finally laid eyes on what his brother in arms held dear. There, in fading color, was a picture of a gorgeous dark-skinned man smirking into the camera, hazel eyes shining with mischief and affection as he held a grinning toddler on his hip. The picture was worn on the edges, creased in four equal squares and well-loved. Just holding it for a second made Steve feel like he was intruding on a private moment and he quickly placed the picture back in it’s hiding spot, creeping out like a thief in the night. It hadn’t taken much to learn the man’s name; later that night it was the sole mantra of a drunk and emotional James Barnes.

Steve can’t help but feel like he was in the presence of a deity, having never met the man in person during the eight-year friendship he shared with his best friend. 

“Um, hi,” Sam says awkwardly, when the odd man kept staring at him in awe-struck silence. He shuffles the large picnic basket from one hand to the other, offering the newly-freed one for a handshake. “I’m-”

“ _Sam_ ,” Steve finishes gleefully, clasping the hand and pumping it with vigor.

Sam looks baffled for a brief moment before he’s offering Steve a tentative smile. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“No,” Steve says simply, gazing at the man in wonder, still shaking his hand. “I’m Steve, Buck and I served together.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you for your service.” Sam says politely, eyes dropping to his hand that was starting to get sore from the firm grip the other man had. Steve suddenly realizes how weird he was being and finally lets the other man’s hand go in favor of waving him inside. ”I’m sorry, come in. Forgive me for starring, your picture does you _no_ justice.”

“My… picture?” Sam asks, cocking his head to the side in adorable confusion, making Steve just want to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. Right when Steve closes the door behind Sam, James comes jogging down the stairs, dressed in workout gear.

“I’m ready, punk. Who was at the… door?” James asks, trailing off when he sees Sam standing in the foyer. 

“It’s _Sam_ ,” Steve says excitedly, still giddy from finally laying eyes on the man who would forever hold his best friend’s heart. 

The divorced couple stare at each other for a long moment in a tense silence before James snaps out of his shock and glares at Steve. “Go be annoying in another room,” he barks. 

Steve grins and looks unbothered by his friend’s tone as he reaches out to shake the man’s hand again, this time only pumping his hand the customary two times before letting go. “It was so nice to finally meet you. I hope to see you again soon, really soon, maybe?” 

“Steve, I swear to god -” James starts and Sam gives him a kind smile. Steve decides to give the pair a moment of privacy and disappears into the kitchen before James actually murders him.

“He’s a freak, I’m sorry,” James offers after a few seconds of silence following Steve’s departure. 

“Steve’s nice,” Sam says with a genuine laugh.

James tries not to give the other man heart-eyes, having always adored his laugh and from the moment they began dating he tried his damndest to see that cute gap-toothed smile revealed in a moment of unbridled joy as often as he could. Instead of writing poetry about his ex-husband’s laugh, he gives a small smile of his own and gestures to the picnic basket in Sam’s hand. 

“What’s in the box?” he asks, giving a watered-down impression of Brad Pitt’s character in _Seven_.

Sam gives him a completely unimpressed look, though his eyes light up in amusement. “That wasn’t funny in the nineties and it’s not funny now.”

“Hm, agree to disagree.” James jokes and tries not to get nervous as Sam’s face morphs into a more serious expression.

He takes a deep breath and hands the basket over, which causes James to almost dislocates his shoulder due to how unbelievably heavy it was. “Sam, did you leave anything at the store?”

The shorter man looks slightly embarrassed, clasping his hands behind his back. “I couldn’t decide which dish made for the better apology -”

“So you made them all?” James teases and his stomach decides to embarrass him by growling loudly.

Sam is smirking at him now. “Guess that was a good decision, huh?”

James props the basket up on the back of his couch and starts to dig through the contents in lieu of responding. He lays eyes on the first container and suddenly cannot wait until he finishes his workout with Steve so he could come back and stuff himself silly. “Oh, _hell yeah_ , you made lasagna? Wait, wait, you made _gumbo_ , too?”

“There’s a philly in there as well,” Sam offers. 

James swallows the influx of salvia in his mouth, sending a mental thank you to Sam’s mother for teaching him how to cook so well. Besides the affection, companionship, sex and deep connection with his baby, one of the other things James has greatly missed was Sam’s _cooking_.

“You didn’t have to do this, Sam,” he says seriously, resting the basket on the couch and giving his ex-husband his full attention.

Sam shakes his head in disagreement. “I wanted to, it’s the least I could do for being so terrible the… other night.”

James nods in understanding and lets Sam continue.

“James, I’m _sorry._ It was so shitty of me to start something like that and then ask you leave. I just started thinking about how we never even resolved our issues but were five seconds away from having sex on my couch and I just _freaked_ -”

“Hey, it’s okay -” James says softly, watching the other man work himself up over nothing.

“It’s _not_ , James. That was such a dick move and I never meant to hurt you like that. I’m so sorry.” Sam finishes with a sniffle and drops his eyes to the floor in shame.

James considers himself a tough man, having killed with his bare hands and run through raining gunfire to retrieve a brother wounded in battle. He’s stared death in the face multiple times and boldly told him _not today, fucker_ ; but one thing he cannot and will never be able to handle is seeing Sam or their daughter cry. It makes his chest constrict harshly and his stomach turn entirely into uncomfortable knots, hands twitching with the need to do damage to whomever, _whatever_ made them sad.

“Sammy, don’t cry, it’s over with, we’re alright,” he says softly, pulling the man into his arms to stop the tears before they even have a chance to fall. He refuses to dwell on how _right_ his world feels the moment that Sam’s arms wrap around his torso and burrows closer as his sniffles eventually cease. Had he been caught he wouldn't admit it, but Sam still wore the same cologne he wore when they were together and the smell was still so inviting that James had to force himself not to do something stupid.

“We should talk about… _stuff_ ,” Sam mumbles against his neck and James can’t help but tease him, a cuddly Sam is the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Stuff?” he probes.

Sam nods slightly. “And things…”

“Stuff and things?” James clarifies, amusement clear in his voice. “Sounds important.”

James feels that the pinch to his side was deserved and just barely manages to keep the yelp from leaving his lips. “You know what I mean, James Barnes.” 

“You say when and I’ll clear my schedule, Sammy.” James says and gives the shorter man another squeeze before they release each other and take a step back.

“I’ll call you,” Sam promises and gives one of his pretty smiles as he makes his way to the exit and James escorts him out, unable to help the lovesick sigh that leaves his mouth the moment the door closes behind him.

***

_Sam rolls his eyes in irritation when his phone rings with the specific ringtone he has set for his husband. He tosses the pair of pants he was in the middle of folding onto the bed and answers the phone in a bored tone. “One moment, I’ll go give Jasmine the phone.”_

_“You’re really not going to fucking talk to me? It’s been two weeks, Samuel.” James barks on the other end of the line, fed up with the silent treatment and overly formal, short responses he gets when Sam doesn’t have a choice but to speak._

_Sam clenches his jaw, refusing to engage. If James doesn’t see why he’s upset and wants to act like_ Sam _was wrong here, then he’s not going to waste his breath. He’d give the phone to their daughter and leave the pair alone for some “quality time”, or whatever parent-child bonding Jasmine could get over the fucking phone._

_“Answer me,” James commands and his tone alone sets a fire under Sam. Every time they were unable to avoid speaking the conversation either ended as a screaming match where they called each other every name in the book or one of them hanging up on the other mid-sentence._

_“If you’re not informing me that you’re coming home, I don’t have a fucking thing to say to you,” Sam hisses into the phone and continues in a lower tone as he stops in front of Jazz’s room. “Not that you’d know, but it’s past Jasmine’s bedtime, make your virtual-parenting check-in quick, asshole.”_

_Sam puts the phone against his chest as he knocks on the frame of the girl’s door to grab her attention, giving a tense smile that in no way reaches his eyes. “Your papa called for you, princess.”_

_The girl immediately abandons the action figures she was making fly around her room and rushes across the short distance in excitement, grabbing the phone with eager hands and putting the phone up to her ear. Jasmine missed her papa_ so much _and really wishes he was home more to make mudpies in the backyard and eat ice cream together. She doesn’t think daddy tells papa anymore, but she knows he misses him too._

_Sam pivots on the spot and stalks away from the room as his presence wasn’t needed._

_“-sick of your fucking bitching, Sam. Put my goddamn daughter on the phone and shut the fuck up.” James growls on the other end of the phone, unknowing that Sam was nowhere in the general vicinity._

_Jasmine’s never heard her papa sound so_ angry _and say such bad words. She doesn’t like how scary he sounded and didn’t want him to be upset with her and never come back home. Daddy says she’s a big girl all the time, so that’s what she is! She’s a big girl and she’s not going to cry. Just because the big kids at daycare call her a baby doesn’t mean she is one!_

_“Hi, papa,” she whispers in a watery voice, thinking she wants to go cuddle with daddy after the phone call is over._

***

Sam’s reading in bed on the brink of falling asleep when a soft knock against the frame of his bedroom door jars him. He clears his throat, the _I’m not sleep_ dying on his tongue when he sees Jasmine standing in the threshold looking nervous.

“What’s up?” he asks, hoping this cold war they were in would come to an end now.

Jasmine shuffles from one foot to another, looking unsure of what to say or do, as her and daddy virtually never fought. Even their biggest fights never ended with her telling her daddy that she hated him and she hadn’t even _meant_ it; she’d just been so upset that her plans were all falling apart and took it out on him.

“Can I come in?” she asks timidly.

“You’re always welcome, baby girl.” Sam says softly, putting his book on the side table and lifting the edge of his comforter as further invitation.

Jasmine looks so _relieved_ , that Sam wishes she’d been home before he left to visit James so they could make up sooner. It was never his intention to make his kid think he’d stop wanting her around or, heaven forbid stop loving her, because of an emotion-fueled argument. The teen wastes no time in climbing in the bed and cuddling up with her father, a content sigh leaving her lips as all the tension from the day leaves her body.

“We don’t fight,” Sam says softly, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his kid’s back.

“Can we never fight again?” Jasmine requests.

Sam smiles down at the girl, _so_ happy to agree to that. “Never again.”

The man turns off the lamp and slides down more in bed, their positions adjusting accordingly as they settle in for bed. For a day that started with him nearly having a heart-attack from stress, it ended pretty damn good. 

“I don’t hate you, daddy,” Jasmine whispers. “I love you very much.”

Sam has the take a second to reign in his tears from the overwhelming affection he felt for his baby in that moment. “I know, I love you too, princess.”

Life was looking up and Sam couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing something other than a oneshot, fingers crossed. 
> 
> Leave me a comment letting me know what you thought of this chapter, if you feel so inclined!
> 
> Next chapter should be posted pretty soon.


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